AGN -Chapter 165 Zheng Da’s Teaching

Although Zheng Da considered himself a low-key master, he still had clear shortcomings compared to true masters.

His language skills were quite lacking.

This could already be seen when Zheng Da went to Yunzhong Canteen to guide Qin Huai earlier.

His vocabulary was basically limited to phrases like: “You get this, right?”, “I mean this, not that”, “The key point is this”, “It’s this feeling—yes, yes, exactly this, not that.”

Pure encrypted communication.

This time, although Zheng Da came well prepared, he still didn’t overcome his language barrier.

So Zheng Da chose not to overcome it—he simply gave up.

As long as there was no language involved in teaching, there would be no obstacle to overcome!

Using language to teach is something only a master like Huang Shengli—who had never taught a genius before—would do. Zheng Da believed that geniuses like them didn’t need language at all; demonstration alone was enough.

Zheng Da was very well prepared.

To prevent his teaching from becoming too dull, while extracting crab meat and crab roe he even tried to add some flair, hoping to show Qin Huai his exquisite crab-picking skills. As a result, he ended up extracting too much crab meat.

No problem—too much flour, add water; too much water, add flour. This formula applies to most pastries.

Just adjust the proportions accordingly.

The process of preparing pastry fillings is inherently full of uncertainties. Simple ones involve misjudging a single ingredient; more complex cases involve issues with the ingredients themselves—for example, sweet potatoes not being sweet enough, chilies being too spicy, carrots having an overpowering flavor…

Making pastries isn’t like solving formula-based problems where mastering a few examples lets you handle everything of the same type. In reality, whether in savory or pastry cooking, most dishes work this way—the higher the difficulty, the greater the uncertainty, and the more likely things can go wrong during the process.

For instance, the longevity noodle recipe Qin Huai obtained was clearly an S-grade dish, yet due to a rare and absurd situation—where the main chef had to leave and the assistant lost focus on the heat control—it was downgraded from S-grade to A-grade.

Compared to that, Zheng Da’s situation couldn’t even be considered a failure—just a small hiccup in the process of making pastries.

Ignoring such minor interruptions, Zheng Da’s craftsmanship was impeccable.

In terms of kneading dough, his skill in making thin-wrapped, thick-centered siu mai wrappers was overwhelming. He didn’t even need to concentrate; like when Qin Huai made ordinary dough, muscle memory alone was enough.

In terms of filling preparation, Zheng Da’s seasoning skills far surpassed both Zheng Siyuan and Qin Huai. Qin Huai’s seasoning had already been certified by the system as advanced, and based on that rating, Zheng Da’s seasoning was undoubtedly master-level.

Just like his lack of expressive language, Zheng Da’s seasoning relied almost entirely on intuition.

A chef’s intuition.

He placed the chopped shrimp, crab meat, and crab roe into a bowl without even portioning and testing a small batch first. He directly added salt, cooking wine, and sesame oil in one go. Watching his process, an outsider like Huang Anyao would never realize how difficult the seasoning was—Zheng Da made it look too casual.

Smooth and seamless.

Not the kind of polished “master-level” smoothness either. When watching Huang Shengli make Three-Course Duck, even outsiders could tell he was a highly skilled master because his process exuded professionalism.

But watching Zheng Da make crab roe siu mai, an untrained observer would simply think the middle-aged chef was rather careless—just mixing things casually, not taking it seriously.

Fortunately, Zheng Da’s wrapping technique was excellent.

His movements were fast and practiced. Every siu mai he wrapped looked identical in size and shape, like products from an assembly line.

His fundamental skills from his years working as a pastry chef in a state-run restaurant were still intact.

Efficiency was his hallmark—fast and productive.

Throughout the entire process of making crab roe siu mai, Zheng Da hardly spoke until they were ready to steam.

Pure hands-on work.

Qin Huai watched very carefully from the side.

The siu mai were still steaming in the pot. Qin Huai had never tasted crab roe siu mai before and couldn’t imagine what it would taste like, but he was already looking forward to it.

It must be delicious!

For the first time, Qin Huai had a truly direct sense of Zheng Da being a top-tier pastry master.

No wonder Huang Shengli kept comparing himself to Zheng Da. Watching a gifted junior abandon cooking to pursue business, achieve financial freedom, live happily, and even have an exceptionally talented son inherit his craft—if Qin Huai were Huang Shengli, he would probably compare himself to Zheng Da as well.

“Xiao Qin, how was it? Did you understand what I just showed you? It’s okay if you didn’t. This crab roe siu mai seasoning is indeed quite complex. If you didn’t fully grasp it, you can first try the finished batch. After tasting it, I’ll demonstrate again, and then you can try it yourself.”

“Ah, it’s already past three. If we do another round, you won’t have time to practice today. No problem—you can digest the lesson today and try tomorrow. No rush. Your Master Huang will also be doing therapy tomorrow afternoon and won’t be here.”

“I should remind him—his back condition isn’t trivial. He needs more therapy. What’s the point of only doing it for a couple of days after improvement? He should continue for a few more days!”

Qin Huai: …

Is it possible that Huang Shengli’s absence every morning was because he was undergoing therapy?

Qin Huai decided to change the topic.

“Master Zheng, I’ve always been curious—how did you and Master Huang learn cooking back then? Was it taught the same way you’re teaching me now?”

Zheng Da’s eyes lit up as he reminisced.

“You didn’t hear it from your Master Huang?”

Qin Huai shook his head.

“Then I’ll tell you properly!”

Zheng Da and Huang Shengli had known each other since childhood. Their parents worked in the same textile factory. Life was difficult back then—large families, limited income. Zheng Da was the fourth of six siblings, often going hungry. Huang Shengli had a slightly smaller family but even worse conditions due to illness in the household.

At that time, working in a state-run restaurant was a highly desirable job. Zheng Da’s master, though injured from earlier turmoil, was a renowned chef with the best skills in town. For major banquets and visiting dignitaries, he was always the one in charge.

One day, their master announced he wanted to take on apprentices. The news caused quite a stir. Apprentices were essentially treated like half-sons—trained to inherit the craft and even support the master in old age. Zheng Da and Huang Shengli had to pass multiple selections, even competing against others, before becoming apprentices.

Zheng Da continued with enthusiasm, but mostly rambled without getting to the point.

“Then how did your master teach you?” Qin Huai asked.

“Just like how I’m teaching you now—hands-on,” Zheng Da said.

“Start with fundamentals: stance training, strength training, carrying weights. Then cutting vegetables, kneading dough, flipping woks, practicing control. My master’s teaching method was traditional—but also very generous. First, he made sure apprentices were well fed and healthy before training strength and taste.”

Back then, he and Huang Shengli lived with their master. For the first six months, they mainly ate. Large bowls of white rice twice a day, supplemented with coarse grains, corn, and sweet potatoes. Occasionally, the master would cook extra meat for them.

Zheng Da joked that at that time, calling the master “father” wouldn’t have been an exaggeration.

He even received his first set of new clothes from his master and cherished them so much he slept holding them at night.

He once vowed that when he became a master chef and earned a salary, he would buy clothes for his master every year.

Sadly, he never became the head chef at a state-run restaurant. Instead, Huang Shengli got that opportunity. And before he could repay his master much, time passed…

Still, Zheng Da had many junior disciples and nieces/nephews, and he was known for giving generous red envelopes. If Qin Huai were willing to become his apprentice, he promised even larger rewards—custom clothing, better living conditions, everything.

Qin Huai felt the topic drifting off-track and steered it back.

“After mastering the basics, did your master teach you in the same hands-on way you’re teaching me crab roe siu mai now?”

Zheng Da nodded.

“Pretty much. Traditional apprenticeship: follow the master into the kitchen, observe first, then learn. Watch with your eyes—what you can understand visually doesn’t need explanation. What you don’t understand, you ask. With repeated demonstrations over time, even the slowest apprentice can learn.”

“Once proficient, the apprentice works independently.”

He recalled how, when he first started selling fermented rice buns at the state-run restaurant, neighbors criticized his skills compared to his master’s. He would secretly cry at night, feeling ashamed.

His senior apprentice had similar experiences, facing harsh criticism as well.

But looking back, the neighbors still bought their food in long lines every day. Their skills might not have matched their master’s, but that was expected.

Sometimes Zheng Da felt that being a master was better than being a disciple—if the disciple underperforms, people understand; if the disciple excels, the master gains prestige.

At his age, he would never surpass his own master. But if he could produce a disciple who surpassed him, he would consider his life in pastry worthwhile.

As he spoke, Zheng Da looked directly at Qin Huai with bright eyes.

Qin Huai: …

Why does this feel like a sales pitch?

Qin Huai had no intention of becoming an apprentice.

If this had been years ago—before his system, before inheritance—he might have considered it. But now, with the system, inheritance, and upcoming wealth, he had no lack of resources or motivation.

His current goal was simply to complete the system’s recipes and achieve S-grade dishes.

Becoming an apprentice wasn’t something he needed.

So Qin Huai said directly: “Master Zheng, I don’t currently have plans to take a master.”

Zheng Da was taken aback, then quickly reassured himself.

No plans now didn’t mean no plans in the future.

It just meant he hadn’t shown enough yet.

Just then—

“Ah, the siu mai should be ready.”

A minute later, the crab roe siu mai came out of the steamer.

The siu mai looked exquisite, topped with a small egg crepe garnish.

Qin Huai took a plate, picked up three, and waited for them to cool.

Many others were already lining up to receive theirs.

Zheng Da’s initiative in making crab roe siu mai was rare—something like rain falling upward.

The moment the siu mai cooled to a suitable temperature, Qin Huai took a bite.

Fresh.

That was his immediate impression.

The thin wrapper had a slight chew and paired perfectly with the filling. The shrimp, crab meat, and crab roe combined into a wonderfully fresh flavor.

The shrimp was mild and slightly sweet. Crab meat shared a similar delicate sweetness. Crab roe, however, was bold and rich.

Together, under careful seasoning, these ingredients blended harmoniously without overpowering one another.

Delicious.

Purely delicious through excellent seasoning.

No excessive flour techniques—this was all about the filling and fresh ingredients.

This was true craftsmanship.

At that moment, Qin Huai felt a hint of envy toward Gong Liang.

He had eaten this level of crab roe siu mai for an entire month.

What kind of life was that?

No wonder he kept pestering Huang Shengli and Zheng Da for more good food—his palate had been trained to a high standard.

Qin Huai silently shed a tear of envy in his heart.